


Their true story ;)

by Grayling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Breaking Up & Making Up, Discovering true self, F/M, Idiots in Love, Lust, M/M, Mature love but young sex, Never too late to be happy, Other people's expectations, Poor Life Choices, Sexual Identity, Sexual Tension, When your body wants something else and you don't understand it yet ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grayling/pseuds/Grayling
Summary: He should be happy. He has a beautiful wife who is also his best friend. He has healthy children, talented and wonderful. He lives among people who love him and whom he loves. He has a job that gives him a huge amount of adrenaline which is exciting and addicting. He's defeated the most powerful and evil wizard and he's saved the world. He is Harry bloody Potter and he should be the happiest man on the entire planet. Only when he wakes up suddenly, deep at night, covered with cold sweat that stinks like fear and pain, he thinks: 'Why the hell am I so fucking miserable?'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frayach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/gifts).



> I always wanted Harry to have James, Al and Lily. So he had to have Ginny for that. But I also wanted him to have Draco. And this time I wanted them to be "normal" ;) Well, well, naive? Impossible?  
> I wrote this for Frayach who is so wise as only suffering person can be. All the best!

He should be happy. He has a beautiful wife who is also his best friend. He has healthy children, talented and wonderful. He lives among people who love him and whom he loves. He has a job that gives him a huge amount of adrenaline which is exciting and addicting. He's defeated the most powerful and evil wizard and he's saved the world. He is Harry bloody Potter and he should be the happiest man on the entire planet. Only when he wakes up suddenly, deep at night, covered with cold sweat that stinks like fear and pain, he thinks: 'Why the hell am I so fucking miserable?'

*

During the trial Harry defended Mrs Malfoy and her son. Not Lucius who was sentenced to 10 years in Azkaban, still the hardest and most terrifying prison, even without Dementors. Malfoys lost their manor and other properties and Narcissa with Draco got 5 years of exile. But for Harry, their punishment would have been more severe. After a year Mrs Malfoy owled Harry and very politely asked for a favor.

_'Me and my son aren't allowed to visit Lucius and that burden is too heavy for all of us. We also know that he is devastated and depressed and we do worry about his future. We know he deserves his punishment but the conditions of it are inhuman and the loneliness drives him insane. Please, Mr Potter, could you put in a word for us to be allowed to visit the man we still love?'_

Not a mention about what Hary owed her or the Ferret, no servile pleading. Hold your head high! Harry did like it! He went to Kingsley and did his best. Minister agreed Narcissa and Draco could visit Lucius quarterly but not together. And there was one condition. Harry was responsible for them. As a trainee auror he had to escort them to and from Azkaban and check and frisk them thoroughly for illegal things or anything that was against law. And that how his problems started.

In fact, there were no problems with Mrs Malfoy. Harry told her that he was not going to pat-down her and asked her to promise him she wouldn't bring or do anything illegal. She agreed at once and he trusted her. They talked civilly and all things were smooth and easy. Quite contrarily to Draco.

'Have you dreamt about a dry bath for me, Potter?' he asked with a nasty wince. ‘Want me stripped and examined head to toe? A full inspection in the washroom?’ And for a second he looked at Harry as if they were in Hogwarts again. Anger and challenge. And something else, only visible too shortly to define.

'Give me your wand, Malfoy,' Harry's voice firm but calm. He expected nothing more from the bastard. Remember yoga practise! Breathe!

'Oh? So why the hell did you give it back to me after the trial, huh?! To prove your kindness? Your perfection? To pity me?!' Malfoy seemed to be on the verge. Suddenly Harry's ocean of tranquility turned its colour into red. 'And now what?' Malfoy yelled. 'Want to show me where my place is? That you have mercy on me? That I even don't deserve to piss you off?'

And in that moment Harry forgot everything they'd taught him during his auror's training. Malfoy was too much for him. Always too much! Potter reached violently for Draco's shoulder and turned him around, pressed his head to the prison's office wall, spread his legs with a kick, stretched Malfoy's arms over his head and angrily put his own palms on Draco's arms, then down, his armpits, sides, chest, abdomen, hips. He was so furious that he grabbed Malfoy's balls strongly and hissed straight to his ear: 'Have you dreamt about a dry bath _from_ me, Malfoy?'

And then the bastard burst out laughing. Harry failed. After all, he'd always had problems with self-control around Malfoy. There was only one way to win. A dirty one.

'You piece of shit, if you don't cooperate, I don't let you visit your bloody father!'

Malfoy shrank, lowered his arms, turned to Harry, defeated, eyes down. But Harry didn't feel like a winner, the taste was bitter in his mouth. They didn't fight anymore and Draco obediently did everything Harry told him. They went to the lowest floors of Azkaban, deep under the ground, cold and wet, and Harry waited outside Lucius' cell, not watching or listening to them. Awful memories filled his mind, the place itself was traumatic. After an half hour visit Draco looked like crucified. Harry spared him more pain and kept his mouth shut. They used the prison's floo and went to the ministry building where Draco had another connection. Harry only said short 'See you in three months,' Malfoy nodded and it was over.

*

For the rest of the day Harry tried hard not to think about Malfoy's heat under his hands, his muscles, his stormy eyes and above all, his rage and then sadness. That night Harry had angry sex with Ginny and their first-born son was conceived. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He loved her. Truly. She was his one and only. Girl. Woman. Fiancée. Wife. He only kissed Cho before her. It didn't count. But he had sex only with Ginny. Nobody else. She was the first. And they wanted to get married fast. What was the reason to wait? The war was over and it was time to live! She was smart. She was beautiful. Hair, complexion, smell. And he knew she loved him back. With all her rich nature: generous, stormy, brave, fearless and unique. 

Everything should have been perfect. It should have been! They both deserved it! After all they'd went through! After all they'd suffered! She understood him. Except Ron and Hermione, Ginny understood him best. After all, she was possessed by Voldemort, too. She had her own demons to fight. And she never gave up! He admired her, respected her, loved her. Only... well, it was all his fault. He couldn't make love to her in a way she deserved it, he wasn't able to. Their sexual life was dull and occasional. Yeah, occasional life, funny thing. Vanilla sex, he preferred lights off – why? Wasn't she attractive, for Merlin's sake? He didn't understand himself. But he was always tired, his auror's training and then job wore him out totally, so he explained his failures. Yes, what a shame, it didn't go up. His dick disappointed him, and he must have disappointed Ginny. Only she was always understanding. And that pissed him off even more.

He wanted to compensate it to her. Kept buying her flowers, jewellery, dresses, handbags. Never underwear, he was too shy for that and he didn't know her bra size. Maybe because he didn't like to touch her breasts. They were too perfect, too big and round, too visible. It was somehow embarassing. He couldn't understand Ron's obsession over Hermione's tits and all that chatting at aurors' headquaters: 'Have you seen that new one's boobs? The girl has got something to breathe with, hasn't she?' Harry didn't allow Ron to talk about such things. Such things should have stayed in a bedroom. At night. With lights off. Short and fast. And then sleep. Demanding duties in the morning. Breakfast, work, catching bad people, celebrating victories, getting drunk over failures. Sleeping. No nightmares, he had potions for that. Deep, dreamless sleep. And breakfast again. Carousel of life.

And there were his duties with Malfoys. With the Ferret, actually. Next meeting seemed to be slightly different. Draco stopped abusing Harry. It was in fact quite strange and uncomfortable, sort of out of character. Anyway, Harry didn't comment. Wasn't it all he wanted? Some manners? Well, about checking and examining. Kingsley was very strict about how thoroughly Harry should frisk Malfoys. Potter couldn't do it to Narcissa but was eager to make up his lack of drive when it came to Draco. It wasn't a problem, was it? He did it plenty of times with captured criminals, no difference this time.

First, he was searching for illegal things manually. Front, than back, Malfoy's face towards that damn wall. Harry tried to be professional and Draco, well, didn't protest, he took all the procedures with a wan smile. But soon it became a matter for Harry. It seemed to be too intimate. What the hell? Malfoy was fully dressed anyway. But he looked at Potter as if... amused? aroused? So Harry turned him to the wall rather quickly. Unfortunately, it didn't help much. Malfoy's back and bottom and thighs were as much distracting as his chest, abdomen or knees.

Why, why the hell did he agree in the first place? Oh, yes, gentelman as he was, couldn't refuse that beautiful, unhappy woman! Fuck! But this wasn't the end. Harry didn't do it during the first time, he was too pissed off, but had to fulfill all the procedure during that next visit. So, then was that part when he took his wand (Malfoy's eyes wide and terrified, ha, ha!) and cast some spells to examine inside – there were places in human body to hide things! Of course, Harry didn't want to hurt the Ferret, he was never cruel or insensitive (his collegues saw this feature as Potter's weakness). His spells were accurate but delicate. And the way Harry's magic influenced Malfoy was shocking. It started from a soft moan, Draco tried to keep quiet but apparently couldn't resist. Again a groan, then longer and louder, and more sensual. Harry felt confused. It had never happened before! Merlin, it was as if his spells hit him back! It was new and intensive, undefining, wakening something deep in Harry's guts, like dark fire. Malfoy also felt this thing and fight against it. His struggle was so arousing! And Harry's body responded, and responded hard! With every passing second his boner was more evident. Awkward! Humiliating! It was all Malfoy's fault! Bloody bastard! Those sighs, moans and groans. Harry couldn't stand them any more. And then the worst happened. Malfoy made such a kind of noise that even as unexperienced as Harry was, he recognised this sound. Malfoy was coming! And it happened that Harry, so proud for his strong will and restraint, was coming too! He came only hearing Malfoy's orgasm! Like a teenager watching a porn star! Fucking Malfoy was his death!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to marvellous Oi Potter! by IWillGoDownWithMyShips, ladyroxanne21

The situation was impossible. He couldn't resign completely (poor Narcissa) and also couldn't ask for a replacement. Imagine himself explaining: 'Minister, I can't assist Draco Malfoy because of my dick issues!'

So, the best thing was better approach. Let's start from small talks, let's minimize the tension. Why not to begin from a polite, neutral conversation...

Next time they met at the ministry building Harry started to talk. It was strange. Very, very strange. But somehow Malfoy seemed to voluntary participate in it. The git made effort. So they talked. Very carefully at first, no difficult subjects. The weather of course, they were Englishmen after all! And then all the neutral issues like France where Draco lived with his mother or his travels around Europe (Harry had no time for those!) and muggle world so new and funny for Malfoy to discover. He was talking about computers and the Internet as if Harry had no idea about it, they almost quarrel! At the end, they exchanged email addresses.

They used to talk about things before Draco's visit at Lucius' (after, he as always depressed and Harry too, but never mentioned about it to Malfoy, didn't want to look weak). They had only four meetings every year but each of them were going deeper and deeper. With all his force Harry tried not to focus on the 'embarrassment part' of them, only while in shower or when Ginny was asleep after his another poor performance of 'conjugal duty' (he somehow managed to fathered his second son) but he kept rethinking their talks for the rest of the quarter. With time passing, their conversation became longer and less shallow.

But the best part of the chat were kids. Hmm, Draco had a son! With that Pansy. But surprise, surprise, they didn't get married. Why? He didn't explain and Harry didn't ask. There were the rules. They talked only about they wanted and never asked each other when felt difficulties. This way it worked. That Scorpius (Merlin, those pathetic and pompous names!) was of Al's age and Malfoy loved his boy. Harry had already known that the Ferret loved his mother (his voice was shaking a little while speaking about her) and probably father (visiting him in Azkaban was the only proof, but still). Potter observed how Malfoy's eyes shone when it came to his son. Harry wondered how the boy looked, was he was so fair and beautiful like his dad? Shit, what was Harry's problem, anyway? Beautiful? WTF?! So, Harry was talking about his own boys, why not? Draco listened. Very carefully. Intensively. With pleasure?

Potter was grown-up enough to admit that he always wanted to have children. His James. His pride and happiness. The apple of his eye. The kid had everything and was everything Harry lacked in his childhood. All the family speed to spoil him (Weasley grandparents as first), give him anything he wanted and more. The boy was confident, gifted, smart and lazy. Daddy loved him unconditionally. And when Harry thought he couldn't put anybody else in his heart, as the love to Jamie took it all, Al came in Harry's life. And it occured that his parental heart was very flexible and expanded to no limits. It surprised Harry. His second son was a miracle to him. A part of his own self in that tiny body. His messy hair. Lily's eyes. His own eyes. The beautiful soul behind them. How was it possible his sons were so different? But complementary to one another. And he loved each of them the most! This confession made Harry's cheeks blush. And Malfoy smiled. Openly, broadly, totally in non-malfoyan fashion.

Yeah, they found the link between them, their kids connected them somehow. Their edges, sharp and blunt, softened around their children. Were they getting old? Fuck!

 


	4. Chapter 4

He never had a chance to decide about himself. Life itself had decided what he was doing and how he was acting. He had been marked against his will as a baby. Then he had lived in a family who hadn't loved him. His previous life had happened to be a great farce when he'd been eleven. Then, once, he'd made his choice. He'd chosen Ron against Malfoy. It had been a great choice. A right one. The choice that determined all his life, all subsequent decisions. But if he'd shaken Malfoy's hand at that time when they had been kids...? Why was he wandering about it now, during his sleepless nights? Why did he wait for their short meetings once in three months? He was watching his life in slow motion, a glass ball slowly falling down on a hard floor. He tried to to his best, Jamie and Al were his pride and joy, his career was developing fast. Except for... Ginny was pregnant again, he had done it quite drunk, even didn't remember that night. After, Ginny hadn't spoken a word to him for nearly a month. He kept apologising and eventually things started slowly to get better.

But Harry felt that Ginny knew. She KNEW. And even then, despite his fall, shame and guilt, all he was able to think about was Malfoy's stormy eyes and that desire to make them silver only if for a moment, and his sharp profile against the wall, mouth open, whispering Harry's name... No more words, only Harry's hands stroking that beautiful pale body. His pushed-away thoughts that their meetings were about to end soon as it was the last year of Malfoy's exile.

Potter knew that after Malfoy and his mother would be allowed to come back, Harry wouldn't be necessary for them. But he also knew that for him there was no coming back to his previous life. Let's face the truth. Harry was lost.

*

Their last time was full of tension. They spoke, as usual, about their kids and common stuff, but Harry didn't mention Ginny's pregnancy. Why? No answer for that. Draco told him about his plans to travel to South America and tropical forests of the Amazon river. It was his chance to earn good money for the rarest potions' ingredients. Malfoy was always good at that. Although Draco didn't speak a word, Potter knew that Malfoy wanted to provide his mother a substitute of life she was used to. Draco was also happy for her to come to England, where she had a few old friends. And then, with shaky voice Malfoy asked Harry if he could keep in touch with her while Draco would be away. It was strange and intimate somehow. And Harry agreed at once. A tiny strand connecting him with Draco...

And then was Azkaban. And 'search' procedure. What actually was Harry searching for? It was a cold day. Malfoy was wearing a soft cashmere sweater of dark purple colour. Harry ordered him to take it off. Malfoy obeyed, took off not only the sweater but everything under it in one slow movement. And then smiled, unzipped his trousers and let them fall down. He had no underwear. Harry felt Amazon heat in this cold nasty office.

'Search me!' his quiet voice. 'This last time.'

Step after step, Potter wanted to calm himself down. And then he felt it. Something changed. In him. He just pressed himself to Malfoy, not able to do anything more, anything less. They were standing like that. Without a slightest movement. Their bodies connected, their dicks hard between them. Fingers entwined at the sides of their bodies. Desperacy in Harry's heart. And then Draco sighed and Harry felt a hot tear on the side of his face.

'Harry... Harry.'

'Draco... I... can't.' Harry's voice strangled and dying. Pain hit him so hard he couldn't breathe. What he felt wasn't lust, he wished it was that, but something so scary that he didn't dare to name it. He trembled. He retreated. With all his will he took a step back. 'Get dressed.'

*

Back at the ministry building, Draco took off the sweater again and handed it to Harry.

'Take it, a second-hand Christmas present. You deserve to have one nice piece of clothing,' his acid sense of humor was always a big help. 'I bet you've never worn anything more decent, even if a bit too long,' he added mischievously. 'And that purple will go with your jade eyes'.

'Jade? Is that a colour anyway?' Harry winced. 'You'd better go, and don't let those Amazon cannibals eat your decent body and stuff your platinum head!' Harry paid him back. Malfoy laughed. 'You care, Potter?' But his eyes were sad. And Harry couldn't take it anymore. He kissed him. Fast and rough. Nothing romantic. Only pure necessity, like air, like water. Like life. It was short, firm and straightforward. And then Harry turned away and apparated on the spot.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

'Ginny, I must tell you something,' Harry sighed heavily. 'It's important... Ginny, I... I cheated on you.'

Silence. Ginny's eyes looking at the window.

'Ginny, it was a man... Draco Malfoy... And I... I think.. I have... feelings for him.'

He told her. After all those years. He hurt her when she was pregnant with his daughter. And now she wasn't looking at him. Harry felt his life somehow ended at this point. Bloody Saviour wasn't able to save his own marriage.

'Ginny, please... say something. I'm begging you... Anything!' tears in his eyes. He couldn't stand her silence. 'Please, at least look at me! Ginny!'

So she looked. With those beautiful, brown eyes. There was pain and disappointment. And..., impossible, ...love?

Harry couldn't move an eyelid. Only watched her. And tears were falling slowly, silently. His and then hers. The tension vibrated in his ears.

And after a while or eternity, she whispered the worst words ever for him to be heard:

'It's not your fault, baby,' and hugged him.

It was too much, too much. He cried heavily, now loudly, desperately. 'Ginny, Ginny, I'm so sorry, so sorry...' He felt so pathetic, so unfair, so guilty.

'Harry… baby…  we should have never been married... We were too young, too wounded after the war, too inexperienced. We knew nothing about ourselves, there was no time to recover. We just jumped into our marriage hoping that it would be a solution, a way to get better. Everybody expected us to do it. My parents were so happy. And... and...' Ginny hesitated. 'We loved each other, didn't we?'

'Yes, yes!' Harry was kissing her tears. 'We did. I still do! Ginny...' he looked straight into her eyes. 'You must know that I do love you!' He winced. 'Only... it's different.. I didn't realise that. Didn't understand. I'd never consider my sexuality, what I needed, what I craved. Ginny, believe me, I didn't know I'm...' What? He had to face it, to pick up his Gryffindor courage. 'I'm probably gay, Ginny.'

*

They talked all night. He told her everything from the beginning. He told her all his sins, as if it was a muggle confession. There were a lot of tears, and grieve, and pain and sometimes anger. Hers, that he'd hid that. His, that he'd been so stupid and hadn't have faith in her. And when a morning came he got his absolution. It was so much relief but also sadness. Now, when they had no secrets and shared their souls, at the same time it was the end of their marriage.

*

They decided Ginny would move to Burrow. They explained her parents that their marriage was over but they didn't want to give the details. And that they still loved each other and remained friends. Molly and Arthur were shocked. Like the rest of the family and their close friends. But finally accepted. They kept it secret, especially from the press, because of Ginny's pregnancy. Harry visited Burrow every day. Played with Jamie and Al, helped with the chores and talked with Ginny and the rest. It was weird, it was tough. It was a kind of shrift. Four months later Lily was born. Looking at his tiny, beautiful girl, Harry thought that after all, now there were three reasons to think his ended marriage made sense.


	6. Chapter 6

The club was crowded, full of neon lights, thumping music and scent of alcohol and men's sweat from almost naked bodies on the dance floor. All the things that should have been rather disgusting for Harry. Instead, the fact that he was half hard only from observing and smelling was a proof who he was. And now, with his sharpen by Auror's training sense of observation Harry fully realised why he misunderstood his sexual orientation. All his life he was under influence of stereotypes about gay men. And as he was masculine, interested in sports and rivalry, never wanted to wear make-up, never felt a desire to put on female clothes or high heels and as he couldn't move delicately and softly (like a woman of course!) or flutter his eyelashes or flirt or giggle (like plenty of women of course!) so... as he was _not_ all these things he had been  _sure_ that he couldn't have been gay! Bloody hell! Standing at the bar in a gay club Harry observed all types of gay men: from dull, modest accountants to outstanding, colorful drag queens. Apparently, there were more different types of gays than an oversensitive woman-like person who was supposed to like shopping (yuk!) and could sway his hips while walking. And Harry's mind started to broaden. At last!

And they were watching _him_ ! With hungry eyes, he couldn't be mistaken. And he liked this! Liked this much more than could admit! He felt he looked good and confident. And hot. He had his power but not the magic one. This was another reason for him loving muggle places. No more war heroes, obligations, Auror duties, pretending he was someone else, someone better, someone uncomplicated and _straight_. Among muggles he at last could relax and rest. And for example get a blowjob from that handsome tall blondie. Harry sighed. Why blond?, always blond, the paler the better. The best with grey eyes. He knew the answer was somewhere in the Amazon rainforest and Harry was left with longing, desire and increasing anger. Malfoy should have come back soon!

For now he continued visiting clubs, giving and receiving unconcerned sex in the back rooms or hotels (as he would never take a stranger to Grimmauld Place), getting experience and trying to tame his obsessive thoughts about Draco. Would the git be willing to date Harry? After all the humiliation he got? Would he want a relationship with someone being watched so carefully by society as Potter Bloody Saviour? Would he prefer his new freedom of travelling around the world, exploring new places to everyday boredom of rainy Britain? And what was more: they both had their limits, their strong fears, their animosities towards each other, their personalities and cores were so different. And of course their past divided them as much as connected. Yeah, the risk was huge. Harry understood that lust alone wasn't able to connect their separate worlds for long.

So much tension, so many problems to be solved. Was it worth trying? Was Malfoy worth longing and pining? Was Malfoy able to love Harry and want him as much as Harry wanted the git? Was _Harry_ worth being loved that way? Was he ready to have his life upside down for the former Death Eater? Was he ready to face people's rumors, laugh behind his back, homophobic jokes or open disapproval of his possible future relationship?

Between one meaningless orgasm and another those were the questions that bothered him so very much. 'You'd better come back, wanker!'

  



	7. Chapter 7

Eventually, the press got the poop. And the hell unleashed. ‘Why are they divorcing? What happened? Who is guilty? Who more guilty? Who was a victim? When has it started? What about their family? Will they fight with each other to keep kids? Do they have secret affairs? Are they cheating? How does Mr X or Mrs Y comment this epic tragedy? Has Harry’s past influenced their collapse? Or maybe Ginny wasn’t good enough for such a hero?” And so on, and so on. The list of titles was long. And exhausting. And Harry was about to break those vultures necks. He hated them with all his heart! Skeeter and her nefarious offspring. And after them people started to chat, discus, rumor... They seemed so satisfied that Harry stumbled and fell down. Oh, yeah, nothing better than a fallen hero! “He’s not better than us! He only pretended to be right and noble. And now we can see his weakness and we can justify our sins! We can feast over his fallen body.”

He and Ginny decided to be above all that jazz and never comment. But it hurt as hell. And Harry felt guilty, of course. The kids felt something, their radars always recorded waves of nervousness or anger flowing from their parents. They tried to protect them, to convince them that they are loved by both parents and safe. But it wasn’t easy when Harry read a story for goodnight and then was leaving Burrow. Yeah, it was bad time.

And when Harry could do nothing but drown in his despair, an owl came:

_I’m back. Let’s meet._

_D.M._


	8. Chapter 8

After careful consideration, Harry decided that he would invite Malfoy to Grimmauld Place. Well, wizarding world was too risky for them, and Harry didn't know if Malfoy felt comfortable in a muggle restaurant. Harry’s house was safe to eat, to talk. And there was that thought in the distant nook of his head: Maybe, maybe...

Malfoy accepted and Harry started getting nervous. He easily made Kreacher to clean the house ('Oh, young Mister Black, old Kreacher is soooo happy'). He himself prepared dinner, then cast a stasis spell, hoping that his spaghetti carbonara would be good enough for a man who had spent long months in the Amazon rainforest. He bought the finest wine. He brushed his hair three times! He polished his shoes. And after he just sat and waited thinking how he should behave and be witty and brilliant and what topics would they discuss and how long would Malfoy stay and if he would be so handsome as Harry remembered.

When Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace it took them circa 2.5 seconds to grab each other tightly and suddenly they found themselves kissing. And kissing. And moaning. And kissing even harder. Then they went completely delirious, tearing and roughly pulling off their clothes, undressing desperately as if the fabric burnt their skin. Moving like lunatics they fell on the floor, impatient and eager like teenagers. And Harry felt so overwhelmed with happiness he barely could express it. Talking? He wouldn't have remembered his own name if Draco didn't groan it loudly. All Harry's feelings, which he even wasn’t able to name, shrank into one gasped sentence: 'Fuck me, Draco!’

And he did.

*

The dawn found them in Harry’s bedroom. Draco was sleeping and Harry was looking at the window, delicate light seeping through the curtains. The pictures drifted slowly through his mind. 

They fucked. They talked. Openly and honestly about all their fears and hopes. They ate. And then, they made love. Slowly, slowly, they took their time, exploring their bodies with surprising tenderness and determination. Harry never felt more at home than while making love with Draco. It was new and shocking. But the light of the dawn and the calmness of sleeping Draco brightened Harry’s mind with some thoughts he never experienced before. But now he felt as if everything suddenly clicked and popped in the right place. And then Harry felt that he was at last ready to make peace with the universe. To forgive. Not only the people who always wanted something from him and hunted him and never left him alone, it was quite easy, he had the ocean of understanding for their flaws. But he forgave himself. For not saving lives of those whom he loved. For not being able to love Ginny the way she deserved. For not staying with his kids always when they needed him. And then - with the first beams of the sun - he forgave himself that he had courage to die but not to live his own life, only reflecting needs and desires of others, shaping himself to be a person they expected him to be and abandoning his own soul. It was like katharsis, like ascending, like finding the deepest truth and accepting it - painful but freeing. And then the purest joy filled his heart. His magic rose in him and poured away, dancing in the room, light and happy like himself.

‘Harry?’ - Draco’s eyes watched him in awe.

‘It’s alright, Draco,’ Harry reached and cupped his face. ‘I’m just so happy.’

 


End file.
